


Fat Camp

by orphan_account



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: camping!, forest, idk guys, spooky????, what the fuck, woods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 11:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11230233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Trevor wants to go camping. Michael does not. Trevor weasels his way into forcing Michael to camp. He doesn't exactly lie about what they're doing. He just doesn't tell the whole truth. Oh, and they might have a bit of a pest problem.





	Fat Camp

The sun shone across the hood, sending beams of concentrated hell into Michael's eyes. His own sweat glued him to the sandy brown leather seats, and his ankles were nearly frying on the dash. The door even wanted to cook the arm he had rested on it. Why the fuck was he out here? Sitting in the passenger seat of Trevor's truck? Oh, yeah. Trevor wanted to 'show him something'.

The man waited a while longer, having long lost Trevor in his sights. Who knew what the crazy fucker was doing. He lit a third cigarette, only managing to take a fleeting drag before losing his patience. It was too fucking hot. Leave it to Trevor to park on a fucking cliff.

"What the fuck, Trev?" He finally inquired, raising a hand in exasperation.

Michael was halfway through ripping his skin off of the leather seats when- SLAM.

He nearly jumped out of his skin with a shout, his cigarette twirling out of his fingers and landing between his short clad thighs. "Oh! Oh, fuck!" He cried, scrambling between searching for the burning stick and looking for whatever the hell had made that noise. 

Nothing, he saw nothing. Then again, he was frantically glancing between saving himself from imminent, searing agony, and the surrounding area of the vehicle. He huffed a few times in relief as he plucked the cigarette from the floor of the truck. Thank fuck. Michael growled lowly, flicking the hardly smoked cigarette out of the truck and popping the door to investigate further. 

His flip flops snapped against his heels as he rounded the truck, seeing nothing suspicious, other than a shiny spot in the side of the truck he hadn't noticed before. "What the fuck." He muttered. This entire situation was inconvenient. Michael sighed and turned his back on the vehicle, eyes searching the cluttered hillside beneath him. Ugh. Nature. It was nice to look at, but he didn't want anything to fucking do with it beyond that.

BANG.

He twirled to look at the truck, hardly yelped this time, but his nerves were on fire. Was Trevor's truck ready to fucking explode, or what? His cold eyes scanned the red beast, gliding across the burly grill, the sabre like horns on top, and the blocky fenders. A second silver scrape caught his eye. It was not rusted like all the others.

Michael cautiously approached the truck, leaning down to pick up a hefty rock right beneath the brand new scrape. He frowned.

"Alright, who the fuck-" The frigid click of a hammer stopped him right in his tracks. He dropped the stone, raising both hands. Whoever it was, they were behind him.

"Uh, what the fuck are ya doin', M?"

Oh, of fucking course. Michael clenched his jaw, dropping his hands and turning around. Trevor had a freshly opened beer in his hand, and he leaned against the front fender of his truck. "For fuck's sake."

"Didn't think you were that fucking jumpy." Trevor commented cooly, taking a swig of his beer. It trickled down his strong, stubbled jaw. His mustache scraped quietly against the aluminum top.

Grey eyes narrowed. "Fuck you, what the hell did you wanna show me? And don't fuck around like that again."

"Pardon?" Trevor's bushy brow raised and he cocked his head.

He gave the taller man a very unimpressed look. "I know it was you, throwin' rocks at the fuckin' truck, don't play stupid, T."

At that, Trevor stepped away from his truck to observe the damage. "Who the fuck was throwin' rocks at my truck!? This is my fucking baby. I ain't gonna throw fucking rocks at it, okay?"

Okay, that sort of spooked Michael. It kinda stumped him too. "Bullshit." But he kept a steely expression. Probably just a bunch of kids.

"Bullshit my ass. C'mon, you fat fuck. We are goin' campin'." Trevor huffed, gesturing for the other to follow him into the trees.

Michael blinked, gaping. "Woah, what the fuck, T? I ain't packed. I don't like the fuckin' woods, and you know it. We are not camping."

"Yes we are, sugartits. If you wanna be a pussy and complain about it, I got a couple dildos under my seat to keep your mouth shut with. I've got pleeenty of duct tape."

"That's fuckin' disgusting, Trev. You know that? You are legitimately the most disgusting thing on this earth."

"Aw, how sweet of you to say!" His voice broke at the pitch he forced.

"You're welcome, prick." Michael flipped him the bird. "Tell me you at least brought some tents." His eyebrows raised hopefully, hands splayed, waiting for their answer.

"Mmmmm... No."

He thought he was going to have a fucking aneurysm.

"I brought one."

Oh! Even better! Not.

"I set it up already, while you were up here jerking off." Trevor's sadistic snicker rattled his brain, makin him growl.

"What the fuck ever. Let's go fucking camping- oh! Becuase it is just my favorite thing to do!" Michael pushed a smile, half heartedly jumping up just enough to knock his heels together. Phew. Didn't know he could even do that.


End file.
